


Dreams of Fighting

by ThatDamnKennedyKid



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Referenced Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 14:19:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13250013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDamnKennedyKid/pseuds/ThatDamnKennedyKid
Summary: In his nightmares, he fights.





	Dreams of Fighting

In his dreams, he fights. Danarius hangs back, watching, waiting, observing. Hadrianna barks orders and yells sneers, unhelpful as ever. The blood drips down the sword and pools in his gauntlets, boils when the lyrium ignites and dries his skin. It cakes on him, showered in Danarius' sin and filth. It will take hours to scrub out, hours that will have to come from his rest time. All the while, he will have to resist the urge to rip away his skin, be rid of this burden. 

* * *

Every time he wakes up, it's in Hawke's arms. He never manages to control himself before he wakes her. She never complains, holding his head to her collarbone, one hand in his hair and the other running along his spine. He always goes to apologize, but she does not accept it. She kisses the top of his head, lulling him back to sleep, knowing the safety her arms represent. 

He asks her why, one day. He asks her why she does it, why she foes so far for him, specifically. 

"I am responsible as well." She replies.

"How?" She responds, incredulous. 

"From the first night abroad, I knew your dreams were of fighting." She replies, still calm and drowsy. "But they were unlike Aveline or Carver or Bethany - dreams of battles bygone with events to be changed. No, yours were simply of battle, forced into combat against a faceless, nameless force you don't recognize. You've told me many times about how Danarius made you fight. Yet, here I am, doing just the same."

"I walk into battle at your side by choice, a markable difference between you and Danarius." He argues. 

"The cause may be different, but the effect is much the same." She replies, a tiny smile on her lips.

"It matters to me." He insists.

She gives him a smile that tells him the subject is closed. 

* * *

He lays awake thinking about it and that is the reason he even discovers it. 

She begins to shiver, her hands flexing and body tensing as though reaching for her blades. She twitches, mimicry of fighting, then the cold sweats and whimpers begin. 

He doesn't even know what to do, unable to think past the ability to watch her. Somewhere, the darkness in his soul that makes his own nightmares chastises him/ for never noticing, for sleeping through her trauma when she cares so readily for his. 

She jerks awake, blindly reaching for a weapon she doesn't have. Her breath is in tight little pants that make nearly no sound. She comes to herself quickly, however, and flops back down onto his chest without even looking at his face to check for if she'd woken him. 

"He's here, Chance." She speaks to herself, running her hands over the marks, which flare gently in tender greeting. "He's right here."

It is then that he fully understands. when everything slots together as she mutters assurances to herself. The tragedy of it breaks his heart and he grasps the depths of her care for him.

* * *

She, too, has dreams of fighting.

 

 

 


End file.
